


they think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange

by blafard



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Andrew catches feelings and writes about Neil, Angst and Feels, I am also a sucker for them being musicians, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Singer Andrew, Substance Abuse, the aesthetic is just so so good, they have a bit of fun together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blafard/pseuds/blafard
Summary: Andrew didn't know how he felt about writing about something other than his own trauma, the nightmares hunting him at night, until Neil calls his name til he wakes up on rare nights, but he thought it was a welcome change, even if it couldn't last.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 107





	they think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange

**Author's Note:**

> title from "strange love" by halsey which pretty much inspired me to write this!

Andrew couldn't quite see past the wet strands of blond hair sticking to his nose and forehead, a sweaty mess of tangled hair and alcohol that didn't quite find its way into his mouth and down his throat, but that didn't matter.

Nothing really mattered to him, but he could admit, even if only to himself, that there was some entertainment found in swaying across the stage, a microphone in his clenched fist and his throat raw from singing all night, his twin and cousin only a few feet behind him at their instruments and Kevin a steady presence behind the drums.

Andrew didn't like turning his back on people, but Kevin never cared for much outside of his drums, so he thought it was ok to do so, if only for a few minutes at the time.

There was a dull ache behind his eyes, gathered around a brain that didn't work as it should most times, the withdrawal of the pills he took making itself known even while high on adrenaline and some cracker dust Aaron slipped him earlier, but he mastered the act of ignoring what his body needed and wanted years ago, and kept singing.

The people inside of the hall were lost to the music, seemingly stuck in a trance Andrew knew all too well, moved by music that Andrew wrote at his worst moments, music he wrote to punish himself and lay all cruelties bare, without anyone asking him if he's fine, because then he could just claim that it was _music_ , something he thought of while being bored to death on a tour bus he never left aside when on at a concert, not a personal horror story he had lived through and wanted to shock the press with.

His eyes swept over the crowd for the hundredth time this night alone, not really looking for anything in particular, not really focussed on any individuals, because even with his perfect memory, it was hard to see anything past a blur of faces and places and crowds he tried to forget with the next bottle of vodka, the next bottle of pills, the next package of cracker dust that barely affected him these days.

* * *

The club was suffocating.

Why his cousin insisted on an after party, when they were standing on a stage not even forty minutes ago, while they watched people lose their minds to their music, was a mystery Andrew didn't really try to solve, but he was in a generous mood for once and barely nodded in approval, before Kevin and Aaron disappeared in the crowd, Nicky already lost to them since they stepped foot into the dimly lit club with sticky bar stools and a DJ that must be already deaf from the horrible pounding of the music he put on.

There were flashes of colour all around, there to paint the crowd in blues and greens and reds, before turning to black again and plunging them into darkness barely anyone seemed to notice, before beginning the cycle anew.

Andrew needed a drink if he was to survive this without stabbing the next person that tugged at his clothes, touched his shoulder, his arms, wanted to draw him into the crowd only for him to disappear for hours on end.

The bartender had an easy smile on his lips, two quick hands and laid it on a little thick with the charm once he recognized Andrew from somewhere, probably the latest gossip rag that spewed lies about his stint in rehab or whatever the fuck they claimed he disappeared off to a few months ago, before they rescheduled the tour.

If only they knew.

The whiskey the bartender slid across the counter was too weak to do anything but wet his parched throat, but he wasn't about to ask the for another.

* * *

The redhead had a jumpy look in his eyes, his quick fingers slipping into backpockets and wallets nobody really kept a close watch on in a club of all places, everybody too lost in each other and in the music to care that a skinny guy stole their cash right under their noses.

It seemed as if he disappeared from one second to the next, the flashes of colour barely reaching anything past the red of his hair and the striking blue of his eyes.

But Andrew saw him and thought that he looked too good to drown in the baggy jeans and tattered shirt he wore.

* * *

Most people would say that kissing was something intimate, something only shared between loved ones, but to Andrew kissing was something _angry_ , something sharp that made blood gather in your mouth and teeth pull at lips until skin broke and gave away.

There was something _primal_ about the way he pressed the redhead against the closed stall door of a toilet that had seen better days, an urge to see the man that had whispered _"Neil"_ into his ear only moments ago, before leading him off to this dingy bathroom with a cracked mirror and barely any light around, fall apart without waiting around long enough to watch him put himself back together again.

Long, thin fingers were buried in his blond strands and he was sure that his own hands, wrapped around hips that were more bone than flesh, would leave bruises behind the stranger would see for days to come, but that didn't matter.

Nothing mattered aside from the way Neil kept mumbling _yes_ against his mouth, when Andrew's hand slipped to the front of his pants and pressed against a noticeable bulge.

The sound of Neil's head hitting the door with every thrust of Andrew's hips was a melody he wanted to put to paper.

* * *

"You're telling me that I got fucked by the lead singer of _The Monsters_?" Neil asked, a hint of disbelief clinging to his voice, as he looked between Andrew and the gossip rag he picked up from the floor once they left the club to get some fresh air.

His hair was still a mess, the red darker than before at some places, sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks and neck.

"You also stole the wallet of the lead singer of _The Monsters_ , but that's just a minor detail, isn't it?" Andrew shot back, the smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingers and mouth.

Neil's cheeks got impossibly darker at that, then he sheepishly reached inside of his pocket and pulled out Andrew's wallet.

* * *

Once Neil left, Andrew looked inside and found all his money missing and replaced by a scrap of paper with a number on it he memorized before crumbling it up.

* * *

The roof of the hotel they were staying in for the night, after another night of Andrew punishing himself on stage with songs he wrote to stay sane once up in a time, was a dangerous little thing without a ledge that could stop him from walking right off this roof and end up as a bloody splatter on the ground below.

But, he thought idly, that's why Neil was here.

They had barely talked aside from trading cigarettes and bruising kisses, but Andrew liked it like this, liked how Neil just got that Andrew was not someone to have deep discussions with, nobody you should bother with senseless small talk or a comment about the weather.

Neil had tried all of the above obviously, but after Andrew threatened to push him off the roof as soon as he opened his mouth, he stopped and instead stole Andrew's cigarette only to watch the annoyance on Andrew's face grow.

* * *

Kevin was saying something to him, but Andrew wasn't really listening, so he backed off and went away to bother Aaron instead.

They had another two days free before the next concert and Andrew was already tired of this entire tour business. Sure, it wasn't his first, but he also didnt really finish the first, before getting locked in some fancy rehabilitation facility that _advised_ him against taking drugs and drinking and doing all the other shit he did to cope, without really changing anything in the end, because celebrities or whatever the fuck they called him, weren't _real people_ you had to actually help, in fear of changing the way they made art or music or acted.

 _What_ _if_ _Andrew_ _couldn't_ _write_ _if he was_ _completely_ _sober_ , was one of the most asked questions the band had to answer and every time Andrew told them that they _didn't have to worry about that now, didn't they?_

* * *

It was only hours later when Andrew finally picked Neil up from whatever the fuck the redhead did when Andrew wasn't around and it took barely another twenty minutes, before Neil's face was pressed against the fogged up window in the back of the borrowed Maserati, his hands clenched in the seat beside him, while Andrew pulled down his underwear and threw the condom wrapper under the backseat.

* * *

The car dealer looked ready to faint, when he spotted the _we just fucked_ written in the fog of the window after Andrew gave the Maserati back.

In the end, Andrew decided that it was worth it for the way Neil looked at him as if Andrew had done something amazing, when in reality he probably helped ruin an expensive luxury car nobody would buy anymore.

* * *

It was almost funny how the crowd got off on Andrew telling them all to their faces how horrible the inside of his brain truly was, what gruesome things were etched into his memory forever, how truly fucked up he was, but only _almost_ , because he didn't expect anything different. They didn't want to think about the deeper meaning of the lyrics, didn't want to think about anything past Andrew on a stage, the black of his clothes bleeding into the shadows until he almost disappeared in darkness, only his voice heard over the thousands of people screaming things they forgot within moments.

* * *

The front part of the tour bus looked almost like living room with its small couch, and a kitchenette they used to store liquor.

To a person that never really had a home for longer than a few months, it counted for one anyways, even if Nicky complained about the small size and missing room to walk around, almost every three days.

But right at that moment, Andrew was blessed with absolute silence. Kevin, Nicky and Aaron were already all fast asleep in the back of the bus, tucked away under blankets in small bunks that made Andrew want to crawl out of his skin whenever he had to sleep in one.

For a man used to being loud, to be seen and heard, to sing his throat raw almost almost every night, he loved the silence more than any other noise, because for once he was allowed to _think_ , to think and actually listen to his thoughts for once, to put the things running through his head on paper, to write about fucking in bathrooms and hands in his hair, smoking until three in the morning and how a certain redhead wrote in the fog of a window that sparked all gossip rags to freak out about it within the next twelve hours.

Andrew didn't know how he felt about writing about something other than his own trauma, the nightmares hunting him at night, until Neil calls his name til he wakes up on rare nights, but he thought it was a welcome change, even if it couldn't last.

* * *

Andrew barely remembered the night before. He remembered standing on another stage in a city he only saw in passing, through the windows of their tour bus, he remembered drinking a few too many drinks, remembered the cracker dust mixed in between those drinks, remembered how Neil looked when the redhead asked if Andrew wanted to go with him, just a little while, just a few days, away from everything, remembered how he shot him down and told him for no apparent reason except his self-destructive tendencies that Neil should stop fooling himself into believing that _this_ , what they did was more than a nice distraction, more than Andrew letting off some steam whenever Neil was in the city.

He remembered how defeated Neil looked when he opened another cigarette package to chain smoke until he had to leave for the after party and how lost the redhead looked, when Andrew told him to leave, that he didn't want him around anymore.

Andrew was many things, but only yesterday did he become a liar.

* * *

He could already hear the crowd screaming their names from the backstage area they were still sat in, the chanting growing louder and louder the longer they leave them hanging, but that's all part of _The Monsters_ brand. Always late, never polite, always dressed in black and always close to a mental breakdown that would send one of the back into rehab. Or all four, who knew.

Aaron was tipping back another cracker dust package, before throwing the remaining two to his twin. Andrew stared at the packages with a certain boredom he radiated at all times and then ripped open both packages to mix them into his drink.

Nobody would stop him from completely fucking up his brain as long as he could still sing anyway.

* * *

He was getting worse, he knew. The way his cousin and twin looked at him, as if he was about to go off at any moment, a bomb ready to explode and take everything down with it, was not lost on him, but he didn't know how he could possibly explain how he started to fall for someone that wasn't there to catch him before he ended as a splatter of red on the ground.

* * *

His hair was clinging to his nose and forehead again. He hadn't allowed anyone near him with a pair of scissors in a while, so now he had hair that curled around his ears and fell limp across his forehead more often than not. But he didn't care. Faced with such a minor nuisance, he didn't see reason to fix it.

He was only here to entertain after all, to bleed out in front of all these people that weren't quite as knowing as they pretended they were, people that would wake up on the next day and remember the concert as a fond memory and not like Andrew would. He would remember it as another night of stripping himself off layers of protective walls he put around himself to end his own suffering, would remember it as another punishment, another night of _trying_ to cope with his past.

It was routine by now, to let his eyes sweep over a crowd, unseeing and yet memorizing every single detail, never stopping on anyone in particular. The lights were dimmed, deep blue, bright red, dark violet flashes dancing over bodies squeezed together in a way that would make Andrew panic if he were down there. Then he spotted a familiar red admits the many faces and froze.

His eyes zeroed back in on blue eyes and red hair he had felt between his fingers more times than he could count. The colours danced over sharp features and stopped at an unfamiliar burnmark on his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> so, as I said above, I heard the song and was immediately inspired to write this! I also started listening to my most listened to songs of 2019 halfway through writing this and boy was I angsty, so that also heavily influenced the entire vibe of this. I hope I was able to capture this certain feeling of the song! 
> 
> I also seem unable to finish fics on a happy ending, but I like this actually a lot.
> 
> I'd greatly appreciate comments and kudos! <3


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